The Nineteen Years
by Perfalco
Summary: Post DH. Major Spoiler. The story begins where the last chapter ends, and fills in the years leading up to the epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**I finished the last Harry Potter book, and I knew what I must do. Having spent years reading fanfiction, yet never bothering to create an account to write and review, I instantly recognized that I had to write more. I had to fill in that gap – The one between the final chapter and the epilogue. Now, personally, I don't like Author's Notes – they detract from the story you have come here to read. As such, I will simply have this one very long one in the beginning. As soon as I finished the book, I went onto on the ridiculous delusion that I would find a fully written story that detailed what happened in those nineteen years, one that was exactly in line with the one I conceived. It was then that the obvious and ridiculously sane truth sunk into me – If I wanted this story told, I must do it myself. And here I am.**

**Now I must set several things straight. I like reading something knowing that the author knows full well where it is going and all the twists and turns it will take. J.K. Rowling is one such author, and I would like to inform you that everything is planned out in entirety, locked up safely in my head. Now, here comes the most important part of this "note": I despise typos and errors. If you see something wrong in my story please please please, I implore you, let me know immediately. As is standard, please review.**

**Now, with all of that out of the way, I present to you the story, which picks up with a line that would immediately follow that of the last chapter. Enjoy**

**-Perfalco**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. Big surprise.**

Harry placed the wand back in his pocket – he would return it to Godric's Hollow later. He smiled at the portrait of Dumbledore, and turned to leave, when Hermione said something.

"Wait, Harry." Harry turned to her curiously.

"What is it?"

"Well…" she began hesitantly, "I was thinking that, well, this is probably the last time we'll ever be in this room…and, well…."

Her voice trailed off, and while the feeling her words evoked may have been impossible to put into words, Harry and Ron knew exactly what she meant. But before any of them had a chance to say anything, a voice came from a shockingly unexpected source.

"Oh, I don't know about that," chipped in Dumbledore's portrait, wearing an all-too-familiar smile. "Do you really think you'll give up your mischievous ways so easily?"

"Professor," started Hermione, "What exactly do you mean"

"I mean simply that your mischievous adventures during your seventh year will undoubtedly bring you four back to this office under the new headmaster."

The three people who stood before Dumbledore's portrait, seemingly in a state of shock. These people, who could no longer be described as two boys and a girl, but two men and a woman, had seemingly lost their voices.

"But, but sir!" began the voice of Ron Weasley, "surely we don't need another year at Hogwarts. Voldermort is dead!"

"So?" questioned the portrait "Do you not have plans for the rest of your life? Have you –"Dumbledore was now looking at Harry "– lost your resolve to become an Auror?" Harry had, of course, never dreamed of any job other than that. "You will need to have taken N.E.W.T.S. in order to apply for the job."

"Surely, the Ministry would be perfectly willing to make me an Auror without having taken those exams," Harry responded.

"Oh yes, I am sure that is very true." Harry stood there puzzled as to the meaning of his words, but something nagging at him knew the answer – he was sure of it. And then the portrait of the ever-wise Dumbledore put it into words perfectly. "But, would you accept the Ministry's offer over another year at Hogwarts?"

Ron and Hermione turned toward Harry, unsure of what his answer would be. Harry himself looked almost confused. "I…" he abruptly began. Before he could piece together the thoughts floating around his head, Dumbledore began to speak again.

"Do not worry Harry; there is no need to make a decision now. And I get the feeling you will have quite a bit of free time to think about it"

And it seemed he could not have been more right. Despite the fact that Voldermort was truly dead this time, no joyous celebrations erupted from any part of the world. It felt almost as if people were holding it off, getting the work that was so necessary done before they could live their individual lives. And for all of those inside Hogwarts castle, that could not have been truer. The castle had taken serious damage during the battle, and was only a shadow of its former self. The participants of the battle did not see ruins, but rather an opportunity. All those, who had not so long ago gathered in the Great Hall, set about the task of rebuilding Hogwarts castle. To Harry, it was almost as if he was digging Dobby's grave again. All the work was done without magic. No one had said that magic couldn't be used, but everyone seemed to innately understand that they could not. And so the days after Voldermort's death dragged on. Ever since Harry had stepped out of that office, hardly anyone had spoken at all, as they were too concentrated on the task at hand. Hearing of Voldermort's death, Witches and Wizards from around the world trickled into Hogwarts, instantly understanding what was going on and, without a single spoken word, aided in returning Hogwarts to its former glory. Harry himself was mildly surprised at the workings he himself was participating in. He knew he had many important things to say to many important people, and yet he felt as though he needed to put it off until this work was done.

Extensive as the damage was, they managed to finish on the seventh day, restoring the splintered front gate, and returning the last of the statues to their proper locations and forms. The day after, the Daily Prophet was filled with jubilant headlines, and the celebration that the world had put off suddenly erupted. Harry had been doing a lot of thinking, and knew very well who he urgently needed to speak with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews and comments. Keep 'em coming! As I do not like Author's Notes, from this day forth I shall post comments in my profile.**

**-Perfalco**

On that eighth day, Harry awoke to the sound of an owl hooting loudly. He first, irrational, thought was that it was Hedwig, returned from the grave. He groggily grasped his glasses, and pulled away the curtain surrounding his familiar bed. As he looked around his usual room in the Gryffindor tower, staring at the now vacant beds he felt a twinge of sadness come over for him for the ones who had died. He pushed the thoughts out of his head, and suddenly noticed that a large white owl has flying around the room, with what appeared to be a newspaper tied around its leg. Any other person would have thought that it _was_ Hedwig, alive and well. But Harry could easily tell that it just some other owl.

Noticing that Harry was finally awake, the owl swooped down so Harry could remove the newspaper tied to its leg. After Harry removed it (and gave the owl a few affectionate pets) the owl flew off towards the stairs, apparently going to leave by whatever method he'd used to get in. Harry was struck not by the headline "**HARRY POTTER TRIUMPHS OVER THE DARK LORD**", but by the picture that accompanied it. It was of him facing off Voldermort in the Great Hall, and the moving picture had them endlessly circling, as the crowd of nervous faces watched on.

_Why on earth would it occur to someone to stop and take a picture?_, Harry thought to himself. After puzzling over it for a few seconds, he decided that it didn't really matter. What did matter was that with the castle's reconstruction complete, and the Ministry back to normal, Harry knew that the celebration that he knew was coming had arrived. Despite the sadness and grief of having lost so many he knew, Harry suddenly felt happy. Elated. Everything that he had ever worked for, everything he had ever wanted, he had achieved.

_Well, except for one thing…_

Harry looked at his golden watch, the one he had received from Mrs. Weasley at his 17th birthday celebration. He had slept in far later than he had intended to, and was grateful towards the owl for waking him up. He got dressed quickly, and headed towards the Great Hall. Everyone was meeting there, not for a meal, nor for a meeting, but simply to be there, to talk to one another, to console those who had lost friends or family, and most of all, to celebrate their victory.

Harry walked into the Great Hall, not really late (as there was really not much of a starting or stopping time), and was pleasantly surprised at what lay before him. Very few people had noticed his entrance, and even fewer turned to look at him. Above all, the Hall was joyous. The first thing Harry noticed was that there was laughter. The second thing he noticed was the way the Hall was arranged. It was similar to the way it was during school meals, except the long table for the teachers was gone, and there were only three tables. The tables were mostly empty, except that each had two large platters, containing a small selection of simple foods that the occupants seemed to be slowly nibbling at. At the far end of one of the tables, Harry spotted some of the Weasleys sitting down, and started moving toward them. When he got near them, they all burst into laughter, apparently over some funny joke one of them had made.

Soon, Harry was standing next to them, thoroughly confused. Mrs. Weasley was the first to notice him standing there, and seemed to understand the source of his troubles. She smiled and said, with a radiance that was surprisingly genuine, "Dear, now is a time to celebrate – There will be plenty time to mourn and bury the dead…later." And with her simple statement, and the smiles of the Weasleys trained on him, the joy he had felt earlier returned with full force, and he couldn't help grinning back at them. Suddenly, Harry smelled a familiar, flowery smell. He turned to face Ginny, who was standing right next to him, staring straight into his eyes.

"Harry…" she rasped, in one breathless second.

They stood standing there, and his thoughts from earlier drifted into his mind.

_Everything he had ever wanted__…_

He was vaguely aware that a few feet away, McGonagall had gathered everyone's attention, and everyone was now staring towards their corner of the room as she began to speak to everyone. Slowly leaning in, and in full view of everyone who had not known of their love, Harry and Ginny kissed.


End file.
